


absolution

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, depending on your version of 'happy'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: Hailing from a long line of ever eager retainers, it comes as no surprise when Ignis becomes chamberlain to the young prince of Tenebrae.The only difference is Ravus is a vampire, and Ignis has no desire to be blooded.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Farewell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farewell/gifts).



“Master Fleuret.”

Long had it been since he had been assigned to the household in Tenebrae, familiar walls gilded in white and the scent of sylleblossoms thick throughout Fenestala Manor. It had been a lifetime, truly, since he had been guided to their doorstep at age six, since he had first knelt upon the dais and swore his allegiance to the House Fleuret, and become personal servant to the young prince Ravus.

Well, _young_ was not an apt term, he supposed, and peered across the room at the vampire currently lounging along the chaise. Ravus was hundreds of years old. Nevermind that in the light cast by the fire, soft and warm and inviting like the fanged smile turned upon him, Ravus still looked the picture of twenty-eight.

“Ignis,” he greeted, voice low and lazy. His eyes were still glazed. Coming down from a blood high, Ignis perceived, and pursed his lips at the reminder that _he_ was the only human servant that was allowed within these hallowed halls.

He did not pretend to be unafraid, even now. Ravus’s bloodlust was occasionally uncomfortable, viable in only the way Ignis could watch those mismatched eyes follow him along the room. Despite his position, Ignis did not wished to be turned. Most said it was only a matter of time, but Ignis trusted Ravus more than that. It did not stop the trickle of fear, ever so occasionally, but his life here was comfortable. _Good._ He was grateful, and enjoyed the company he had in the manor.

That asides, like this? Ravus was _compliant,_ calmer, more at ease. Ignis drank in the sight, and smiled warmly in return.

“Your Highness,” he said, and carefully bowed. He was still balancing a tray upon his left hand, two empty, bloodied glasses set atop.

Ravus’s huff might have been laughter, if he were up to it. An extended arm, pale and stark against the deep crimson of the chaise. “Come,” he said, and Ignis raised an eyebrow.

“I _am_ working, Your Highness.”

“Consider it a _task,_ then,” Ravus fired back. His succinct snark never ceased to amuse. Ignis vaguely wondered if perhaps it went both ways.

“Very well,” he said lightly, and stepped forward. “May I take your glass, sire?”

Ravus made a noise. Noncommental though it were, he raised his hand to twirl the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, and then offered it out to Ignis.

Ignis took it, and Ravus took his arm.

The touch barely startled him at this juncture. Yes, he possessed a certain amount of self-preservation fueled fear, but he did not fear him like this. And, in a certain kind of way, he _welcomed_ the prince’s touch.

Those, however, were things he dare not admit.

Nimble fingers against his skin. The pass of cool, uncalloused pads of fingers, the faintest press of a fingernail along the vein at the underside of his arm. Ignis shivered, ever so slightly, and Ravus grinned wider.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Ignis.”

“I know,” he said immediately.

“I would never hurt you…”

“I trust you, sire.”

Another pass of his thumb against Ignis’s vein. Ravus hesitated, and then let go. “You trust me too much, _Scientia,”_ he said, and Ignis did not agree.

“I owe you my life,” he said shortly, and bowed when Ravus waved him away.

“One I will not risk,” Ravus said, and continued, as sharply as he could in this intoxicated state. “Leave me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He set the glass alongside the others, and quietly left the room. He shivered again once he had closed the door behind him, and allowed himself to pay mind to the heat suffused beneath his skin. His body was warm. The place where Ravus’s hand had been was still cold. Ignis stared at his veins for a moment– a temptation, one he dare not admit he wished Ravus to succumb to if only for the intimacy of it all– and for that moment, thought he heard Ravus laugh from the parlor.

  


“This is _ludicrous.”_

“The opportunities are boundless, dear brother.”

“Perhaps, but it is a slight to our name. _They_ are not purebloods.”

“Mother is only trying to do what is best. That aside, their status need hardly apply to the peace effort.” Lady Lunafreya raised her head, a contemplative gaze settling on Ignis. He looked back in inquiry, and removed the cloche from their meal. “What say you, Ignis?” she asked, and he stepped back with a tiny hum.

“I really couldn’t, my Lady.”

“You could,” she said gently, and her eyes were gleaming with barely concealed mirth. “I understand that you are human, but we have seen your tactical intelligence firsthand.”

“His place is in the war rooms,” Ravus remarked, and Ignis warmed at the praise. “If only the strategists would have him…”

“I daresay a human leading a vampire brigade would not garner much positivity,” Ignis said, and Luna laughed as Ravus rolled his eyes.

“Their loss.”

“Well, Ignis?” Luna wheedled, picking up her fork. “A crown of silver for your thoughts?”

“A crown of silver,” Ravus muttered into his tea. “Sister.”

“Perchance Lady Lunafreya is right.” Ravus groaned, but Ignis smiled, a wry thing, and pressed onwards. “Blood standing aside, it would be beneficial to extend your patronage to…”

“House Caede.”

“To House Caede,” he continued, “if only to smooth any hearsay of disagreement amongst your families. And approachable as though House Fleuret may seem, it would cause no harm to allow yourselves time in a city that is yet inhabited mostly by humans. It would reinforce the control that this family possesses, and show to the general populace that otherworldly beings can indeed be trusted.”

Ravus looked at him– they were _both_ looking at him, master and mistress– and again Ignis was assailed by the warmth beyond the cold of his charge’s skin and the ice beyond their gazes, the very same kind that came with the praise Ravus so carefully doled out to only his most trusted of confidants. And then the prince looked away, back to his sister, and raised an eyebrow _just so._

“I will have him as my tactician yet, sister,” he said, and Ignis hid his smile by turning away to collect the pitcher of wine.

“He is correct. You acknowledge it.”

“For Mother,” Ravus said shortly, and held the goblet out to Ignis. “As though there were doubt.”

“You should take Ignis.”

He very nearly spilled, shifting a hand up to the neck of the jug to steady it.

“Take my human manservant to another vampire’s kingdom.”

“You will be surrounded by humans,” Luna said gently, “and Ignis is a familiar presence. I say this only for your benefit, should you not be… tempted.”

“My bloodlust has rarely been out of control.”

“A precaution, brother. Nothing more.”

“If the occasion calls for it, I would be happy to go,” Ignis said quietly, refilling Lunafreya’s glass. “The opportunity to visit a new kingdom is appealing, I must admit.” Combined with the fact that neither he nor the Fleurets likely wanted to speak of Ravus’s thirst, he was eager to dissuade the conversation.

Ravus had always had a slight… _proclivity_ towards drinking more than he should, when he shouldn’t. Not necessarily a desire as it was so much a _need;_ unlike Luna, already in training for her Oracle duties, Ravus always seemed to be perched on the edge of thirst. Special consideration was occasionally taken, but Ravus was young. In comparison to Sylva, or her late husband, Ravus had plenty of time to master that part of himself.

Still, around that many humans for the extended period of time Ignis supposed the gathering would last for, Luna was right: it might do well to have Ignis nearby, if only to prove as a distraction. And, he’d like to think, a source of comfort.

“Do you wish to be my company, or merely to sample the exotic cuisine?” Ravus asked. His tone was emotionless, but there was the humor, so carefully tucked away and hidden to any who did not know him.

But Ignis did. Of all people, Ignis liked to think he knew him best of all.

Pressing his lips into a tight line to hide his own smile, he replied “I’ve heard the seafood _is_ especially delicious in Aequor, Highness.”

Ravus’s laughter was light, and mesmerizing, just like the idea of Aequor’s sea life and the promise of a week away from the manor, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was commissioned by soulmarshal for their [amazing au!! ](http://soulmarshal.tumblr.com/tagged/vampire-au)victorian vampire fleurentia? umm?? yes??? I was SO PSYCHED to write this after finishing off my vamp Ignoct au
> 
> I hope everyone'll look forward to it :3c


	2. Chapter 2

“Indulge me, Scientia.”

Ignis glanced at the hand proffered to him. Ravus was definitely speaking to him, although his gaze was directed into the crowd. A glance to follow his line of sight, to the ballroom stretched ornately out in front of them, and the couples starting to mingle about the dance floor. Ah.

“A dance between two men?” Ignis hesitated, but only for a moment. He was well-versed in dance, and Ravus had asked. Implications aside, it _was_ no travesty. He placed his hand in Ravus’s, the contact of cool skin broken only by their silk gloves. “Whatever will the nobles think?”

“That I have a willing chamberlain.” Ravus paused, and then hummed under his breath as he led Ignis onto the floor. “That I have no other friendships,” he continued, with a tiny smirk. He placed his hand on Ignis’s left shoulder blade, and Ignis frowned.

“My Prince.”

“It’s not untrue and you are well aware.”

Perhaps, but _boasting_ about a lack of connection with so many pricked ears and waggling tongues was hardly appropriate. Ignis rest his hand on Ravus’s upper arm, and clasped his fingers around his hand. “I needn’t remind you of your _many_ acquaintances, Highness.”

Ravus had enough presence to close his eyes when he looked primed to roll them instead. “But I only _need_ you, now don’t I?” he asked, and it was with a cheeky smile that made Ignis have to cover a laugh with a cough.

He had to focus on the dance, then. Just as well. He, dance partner aside, was among others of his own standing… humans. The rest of the Fleuret’s household had been blooded in their service, typical of the profession, so his time around his kind was… limited, to say the least. And to be able to take pride in not only being invited to waltz, but to waltz with his vampire host and to match him move for move, turn for turn, then that, perhaps, was part of the payout as well. He was, as ever, eager to please.

“I’m surprised you remember your dancing.”

“I don’t make it a habit to forget what I’ve been taught,” he said, and in the same way the satisfaction of the dance was awash over him, Ravus’s dry amusement at his response blossomed it further.

“Dutiful.”

“But of course, _Highness.”_

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Wherever did I learn that from?”

“I wonder.”

Ravus’s grip around his wrist tightened; Ignis had the split second to acclimatize to the incoming change in position before he was spun away effortlessly, even managing to keep his feet beneath him. All of his dance lessons, practiced again and again with various partners– with Ravus himself– and Ignis grinned for a split second before schooling his expression. They were in public, not in the privacy of their own dance halls.

Ravus’s hand did not leave his wrist, and then he was pulling him back. Buoying him back to his side with a tiny bit too much momentum; Ignis’s back bumped his chest and he remembered to lift his chin and straighten his arms, fingers tangling with Ravus’s again. He wondered, again, however he had been so blessed to become a part of the Fleuret household. To find a _friend_ in Ravus, as it were.

The dance ended. The floor was crowded, and the lights were hot; the sweat prickling his back was uncomfortably mirrored by his accelerated breathing– made ever more obvious by the feel of _Ravus’s_ breathing against the top of his earlobe. Heightened, slightly ragged. Nearby his throat.

Ignis swallowed a tiny spark of panic, and removed his hand from Ravus’s. “Your Highness.” Then, a little more firmly, a little lower, _“Ravus.”_ He barely dared to speak, nevermind move. “A break, perhaps.”

“No…” Ravus stepped back. “I am… _fine.”_ The words sounded physically pained. They did not inspire confidence.

“A break,” he repeated, turning to face him. “They will not begrudge your disappearance for that long, I am certain.”

“I–” Ravus pursed his lips, and then strode past Ignis towards the entrance.

Well. He should have known the Six would not be content to allow them an easy holiday. Ignis lingered for a moment, only long enough to catch his breath and try to still the fear that had curled into his gut– the latter would do no good for Ravus, nor any vampire here. More than anything, fear was an addiction on its own, and Ignis wanted to do nothing to tempt their prince further.

But he still hurried after him, folding his hands behind his back and affecting an air of calm. Anyone inhuman would see past it, but for the sake of appearance…

“Highness.” He fell into step next to Ravus. It was a struggle to keep up when he was still out of breath from the dance. “Where are we going?” he tried, when he was given no greeting. Still nothing, save the uneasy, dangerous silence from his right, and Ignis fell quiet as well as he continued to dutifully follow him throughout the mansion.

He had never been to Caede Manor. It was very dark, although not oppressive. Technically speaking, it was as though a vampire’s dwelling would be imagined to be, draped in blacks and blues so rich it made his eyes ache to stare for too long. It reminded him of the pictures he had seen of Lucis, of the city of Insomnia, from his studies. He wondered how they compared. He found he cared little, however, compared to the splendors of home. Four days of this, and he was ready to return.

He followed Ravus into an empty room, casting a glance into the hallway before pulling the door behind them. Billiards, by the look of it, and Ravus’s eyes glinting in the darkness. His irritation was _palpable_.

Ignis, turning to the fire, would let him pace off the restless energy. Time away from the crowds, as it were.

“Leave it,” Ravus snapped.

“You can see in the dark, Highness, I cannot.” No further protest came, and so Ignis folded himself down to his knees next to the grate to tend it.

“Four days.” The silence was eventually broken, an irritated– defeated– Ravus slumping onto the sofa. He rest his arm along the back of it and glared off towards the windows. The curtains weren’t drawn, but what lay beyond them, Ignis couldn’t guess. “What vampire cannot handle the press of humanity for _four days?”_

Ignis stood steadily beside the settee, hands clasped behind his back. He had the inkling of an idea, one he truly did not need an answer to. It was best not to focus on, however… “A young one?” he questioned, and quirked a tiny smile when Ravus glared at him.

“I am _hundreds_ of years older than you, Scientia, lest you forget.”

“I haven’t.” It was easy to, physically, as Ravus was. Height and fluidity, dissimilar eyes and mercurial hair. As pale as death, and not looking a day over twenty-eight. “However, in comparison to others, even in comparison to the youngest Caede…”

“There is blood _here,”_ Ravus interrupted, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Ignis tracked the movement, and then continued softly. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but he was determined to say them just so. “You need fresh blood, Ravus.”

“A slim chance of finding such a thing,” Ravus said. “Or seeming weak for accessing it, should they wish to provide. I refuse.”

_Pride is not a virtue._ The words were on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them away and instead pushed forward. “If you’ll allow it, Highness.” He leaned down, fingers slipping to the concealed blade sheathed within his boot. Given to him by Ravus nights ago during the wardrobe fitting– _“you are still a human amongst vampires, I will_ not _risk my familiars in such a way”_ – and now Ignis straightened with it, settling it loosely between his fingers. “I am here for your needs.”

Ravus looked at him as though he had grown a pair of fangs himself, and Ignis kept the smile on his face pleasant even if he was not able to hide the prickle of fear, growing beneath his skin.

No, he was not afraid of his charge. Not in such a way that normal humans were, that any human was were they not accustomed to vampire lifestyle. Ravus was… very dear to him. Perhaps, even, in ways he dare not admit, but he had never been brought to the Fleurets with the intention of giving blood or being blooded. He had never been bitten, and never had need to offer.

It was terrifying and thrilling in turns, to tell the truth, but not something they could afford to bicker over now. It was not something he could afford to vacillate over. He took to removing his jacket, draping it over the arm of the sofa.

“Ignis, you– absolute _buffoon–”_ For once, Ravus sounded speechless.

Ignis smiled to himself, and unfastened the links on a cuff. “What kind of servant would I be were I not able to provide for every desire?”

“Don’t be imbecilic!”

“I’m offended.” He set it aside, and rolled up his sleeve. “I know you prefer the throat, but those marks are considerably more difficult to hide on short notice.”

“Short notice…” Ravus trailed off, and then fixed him with a stare. “You’ve thought of this before.”

_Occasionally,_ he didn’t say. Instead, he pressed the blade to his arm before Ravus could protest further, and let the swell of blood bead up along the cut. Ravus sucked in a sharp breath. _More times than you could imagine, Your Highness._

“I trust you,” he said simply, and stepped forward to offer his bleeding wrist. “Trust me.”

“This is… utter _lunacy.”_ And still his eyes lingered on the blood welling along the cut on his arm. It was beginning to drip into Ignis’s awaiting hand. It wouldn’t do to get gore on the Caede’s vintage carpets, after all. “This is…” Ravus’s jaw tightened, and then he flung out a hand. _“Come._ Reckless fool.” He took his wrist, pulling him in. “Sit, be comfortable.”

Ignis chuckled. Nervous despite his best intentions, he folded himself down onto the sofa next to Ravus. “Take care of me, Highness?”

“I won’t hurt you.” Ravus’s fingers lingered around his wrist, and then lifted to his mouth to lick at the blood staining his fingertips. “You need not worry.”

“I’m not,” he said automatically.

Ravus licked the last of the blood away from a lengthened fingernail, and then raised Ignis’s wrist instead. He looked… contemplative. And thirsty, always endlessly thirsty. Ignis hated he could do nothing more for him, in that regard. “I would never hurt you,” Ravus said shortly, and continued, “but I need to still bite.”

“I know.” His voice did not tremble. The tremors in his fingers, however…

“I won’t hurt you,” Ravus, repeated– swore– and gathered him to his side to feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter inspired directly by [soul's fanart of the two of them dancing](https://66.media.tumblr.com/575b4334a95e964984f565adf513e611/tumblr_pd9h5tKOrd1vxsevoo2_1280.png)


	3. Chapter 3

“Ignis.”

From somewhere, Ravus was speaking to him. He knew his voice in a way that was like breathing, simple and easy. _Necessity._ Low and insistent and, perhaps, even faintly amused. Even in this state, drifting and drowsy, Ignis could make out every intonation of his voice. _Especially_ when Ravus was saying his _name._

But to more important matters: _why_ was Ravus waking him up– why was he sleeping on the job, even? That wouldn’t do. Ignis had to persuade himself out of the dreamland he was caught up in, to shake off the cobwebs and return to his prince.

“Huh?” he blurted, trying to take stock of his body enough to open his eyes. Unusually tired. What was he doing again?

_“Honestly.”_

Finally, he managed. Ravus’s form was blurry as he peered up towards him.

“You would think I was aiming to drink you dry,” Ravus said, and Ignis fumbled with his spectacles once they were handed over.

Right. He’d offered himself over as a bite when the crowds had grown too tempting for Ravus. He was… well, he remembered now. The process of looking over to where he had first slit and then allowed Ravus to bite his arm was momentous, but there was no blood to be found on his arm any longer, anyway. There _was_ an expertly wrapped wound, and Ignis wondered vaguely how long he’d been unconscious.

Ravus answered before he could ask. “You’ve only been unconscious moments. The whole event can be rather soporific, I failed to mention.”

He was slumped halfway across Ravus’s chest. Clearing his throat, Ignis carefully seated himself upright and spoke. _“Is_ it soporific or… did you merely put me to sleep…?” he joked, and quirked a tiny smile.

It hadn’t been unpleasant. Far from, as much as he remembered, but he was… so _drowsy._

“Fine, I put you to sleep.” Ravus reached over, fingers working to roll down Ignis’s upturned sleeve. “Your fear is intoxicating.”

He frowned. “I’m not…”

“Afraid of me, you’ve mentioned a handful of times.” Ravus _looked_ better. Pleased, even, relaxed and far too amused with the proceedings. “But it was your first time being bled. No amount of preparation stalls the fear.” He had the cufflinks fastened before Ignis could even begin to protest. The _prince,_ taking care of _him._

“I’m sorry,” he managed faintly, and flexed his fingers once Ravus had moved his hands away.

“I’d be more concerned if you _were not_ frightened. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” An instantaneous response, but he _was._ The exhaustion was wearing off in gradual increments, and there was little pain coming from the injuries to his arm. His cut had probably hurt worse than the actual bite. “And you, Highness?”

Ravus laughed. He actually _laughed,_ a rare feat in itself, and Ignis could only _stare._ “I’ve been given blood, naturally _I’m_ fine. Fed from you, and we both managed to live to tell the tale,” he said, and was _joking,_ and Ignis wondered if he was still asleep.

“You’ll be unsteady on your feet for a while longer.” Ravus stood, smoothing his hands down his jacket. “I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

“You needn’t burden–” he started, but Ravus didn’t allow the words to finish leaving his mouth.

“You’re not a burden,” he said, and the brief touch of cool skin against Ignis’s cheek was his parting gift as Ravus ghosted out of the room.

 

 

_“Brother.”_

Ignis cast a measured glance towards Lunafreya, curiosity carefully hidden away beneath composure as the princess stared at her brother. Twice Ignis had been witness to the fire and fury of Lady Lunafreya; he had no intentions to make it a third, if he could help.

But her expression softened, turning to mere exasperation rather than true irritation. “I merely meant him for _insurance,_ not actual bloodletting,” she said, voice teasing, and Ignis’s neck warmed beneath his collar.

“I was _insured_ not biting someone unwilling,” Ravus said. He leaned over, dropping a kiss into her hair. “That was the point, was it not, little sister?”

“And Ignis was willing?” she asked, turning her gaze on him.

She was still teasing, and Ignis flushed further. “As I am ever for my prince, Lady Luna.”

“Far _too_ willing,” Ravus murmured, and Ignis coughed.

“Yes, well, I– ahem. I’ll tend to your bags, if you’re settled?”

Ravus dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Ignis went, resisting the urge to put his face in his hands as he did. Rarely was he prone to embarrassment regarding his relationship with the prince of Tenebrae, but then… it was also proving difficult to forget the feeling of Ravus’s hands against his arm, nearly reverent, and the rush of sensation that had come when his fangs had slid into his skin. For the few moments before Ravus had put him under, it had been bliss. Euphoria, even, the feeling of giving himself over completely to the man he had grown to love in some sort of way over the past two decades– and the _some sort of way_ was dreadfully obvious, exemplified in how Ignis would only let himself revisit the feeding during the warmest parts of the day, when he knew there was no chance of Ravus rising and requesting him in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

It was all very… _sensual_ , he supposed, and that thought drew the blush from the rest of his face to the very tips of his ears.

“Mister Scientia, are you quite well? You look very flush.”

“I’m fine!” He would apologize later for snapping at his fellow footman, but as it were, he merely set to unbuckling the luggage. “It’s imperative we return these to His Highness’s room as soon as possible,” he continued briskly, and the servant nodded.

“Of course. Allow me to assist.”

Making a conscious effort to soften his tone, Ignis gave the man a small smile. “Thank you, Aux.” Letting his emotions get the better of him was no good. He had a duty to see through; he could _not_ allow this to affect his performance. Further, he would only make life more miserable for himself if he didn’t find a way to take the edge off.

… what a terrible, terrible turn of phrase. Ignis grimaced, and saw his way back with Ravus’s things.

 

 

Perhaps, it would have been made further easier were it not for the fact, in the following weeks, Ravus’s eyes seemed to trail him more closely than usual. Or perhaps, just perhaps, Ignis was goading himself into believing that, although he couldn’t stop the stutter of his heart whenever he caught the prince watching him from afar. _Like a piece of meat,_ something in his head remarked, and he refused to listen to that. The part of his mind that was still conditioned by society– even after building a life here, even after achieving his standing– Ravus, not in a bloodlust state, wouldn’t hurt him. Not more than he _intended_ him to, anyway.

“Did the speech go well then, Highness?”

“Of course.” Ravus pulled the cravat away from his neck. Ignis dutifully caught it before it could hit the ground. “Thanks in no small part to your suggestions.”

“Ah… I think Lady Lunafreya’s the one who deserves the praise.” He helped in removing Ravus’s jacket, and slung it over his arm. “She worked through most of the revisions.”

“You’ve both a way with words.”

“So do you.”

A tiny huff, fingers pressing the pocket watch into Ignis’s hand. “Quaint, Ignis. Just put this away.”

“Of course, sire.”

A familiar pattern, working in silence as Ravus prepared for the day. The night spent away from the prince for formalities he wasn’t privy to– oh, Ignis _knew,_ and had assisted on the speech Ravus was to give, but he hadn’t been allowed into the meeting– and retiring to his quarters for the sunlight hours. It was companionable, and the peace treaties between clans seemed to have gone well. Ignis was glad. He wouldn’t say as much out loud, but he knew that Ravus had been struggling under the weight of his position within those peace talks.

“Will that be all then, Ravus?” he asked, eventually turning away from the discarded items to address the prince.

He was already sprawled across the lounge, changed into a regency shirt and well-worn trousers. A yawn relayed the exhaustion from the day, and then Ravus tilted his head. “Perhaps,” he said, as his hair fell into his face.

Ignis frowned. “Perhaps?” He looked at him for a moment longer, and then made a vague noise of recognition. “Right. I’ll see what I can manage with the blood supply, although we’re not due for–”

“There’s always you.”

The interruption drew him to a full stop, words stalling in his throat. Ignis paused to push down the anxiety and– much to his guilt– the _longing._ Pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth, he kept his voice carefully impassive when he responded. “Are you suggesting I become a donor?”

“You’re already a donor.”

He may yet grind his teeth into dust. “A _permanent_ donor.” The worry wasn’t the threat to his safety, but something about the fervor that was building up inside of him at the very thought. It seemed… _selfish,_ in a way. A thing he shouldn’t entertain, as it wasn't to his benefit to feel the way the feeding had made him feel– but it was to _Ravus’s_ benefit, he reminded himself. It was not pleasure, it was… necessity. Was it not?

“If you’d be interested.”

“Do you _want_ me?”

“Of course,” Ravus replied. _Oh._ “Are you willing?”

But who was he trying to fool? It was an easy decision. “Always,” he swore.

He still hesitated on the spot after, uncertain of how this… arrangement was to go. The blood donors that came and went from the Tenebrae mansion, both for Ravus and Luna and the remaining staff, were not friends. They were… clinical. Already his friendship with the family complicated matters, how did it change from here?

“Once again,” Ravus said, and Ignis nearly startled to find the prince in front of him, “you are overthinking. Nothing need change. Your position remains intact, with only the occasional additional duty.”

Simple. Easy as breathing. “Fair enough,” he murmured. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then thought again, gently tugging them away from his ears instead. He tucked them safely into his pocket, and quirked an eyebrow at the prince. “Will you sedate me again?”

“I’d rather not. It saps my energy.”

“And defeats the purpose,” Ignis murmured. “Very well.”

“You run no risk of transformation unless you consume my blood.” Ravus’s hand was a heavy weight on his shoulder. Gentle, but… _monumental._

Ignis was very cognizant that his prince could kill him in a heartbeat. A pulse, a beat, and then Ignis leaned ever so slightly into the touch of Ravus’s hand. “I am quite aware.”

“And I’ll take no more than I sense you can give. I will stop long before you faint.”

“I have no qualms over that _,_ sire.”

“Are you _certain?_ I need not to… pressure you into this. There are other donors scheduled–”

“No,” he said stubbornly, and leaned that much more into the press of Ravus’s weight. “Never that, Ravus. I offer myself of my own volition, of that you can be assured.” He hesitated, seeking the words. Ones he hoped were not misconstrued and ones he found himself pondering over if he would mind if they _were._ “I am ever yours, both in duty and desire,” he said softly, and nodded once. There was no question. He would do it in a heartbeat even if he didn’t… enjoy the effect. (But he did.) There was no reason for Ravus to worry, now or ever, because that too would hold constant.

“… you are far too loyal, Ignis,” Ravus said softly. A moment of silence, of speculation or analyzation. The prince’s voice wondrous, and then a careful touch to Ignis’s jaw to further expose his neck. “Sometimes I wonder,” he murmured, and fangs slid into Ignis’s throat before he had time to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's another chapter to end on a bite thinking emoji
> 
> apologies for the delay in updating! I had to crank out a bunch of Castlevania fic- putting aside a vampire story to write vampire stories, as you do


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in three days? isthisapigeon.jpg but the butterfly says witchcraft on it

It hurt.

There was no buffer of having cut himself prematurely this time, merely the slide of sharpened incisors into tender flesh and Ignis couldn’t help a small wince. That asides, it was a _strange_ feeling. Years of watching from afar as all of those surrounding him drank freely within the confines of their own home, staying a careful distance away because of his humanity. Now, _allowing_ this was nearly stifling, an ingrained urge to stay away, to flee– and then Ignis forced himself to relax insofar as much as he could, because it wasn’t beneficial to either him or Ravus.

And below that? It was… exhilarating. He didn’t know if he could liken it to engaging in amorous congress– no, _he_ couldn’t, in fact, seeing as how he had nothing in that department to compare to. The rush, he imagined, was much the same. The euphoria. The feel-good sensation that turned pain to pleasure in a muted sense, the one that trickled over his body like so much warm water after a winter’s night in Tenebrae. The feeling of being of even more of use than ever before, that the boundaries between him and Ravus were well and truly gone in this regard. The feeling of the blood leaving his body and the temperature of the prince’s skin in comparison to the breath against his neck. Well and truly united.

Perhaps, in that sense, it _was_ not dissimilar to sex.

It wasn’t the blood loss that was making him feel weak. The situation and encompassing sensation nearly sent him tumbling to the ground, and Ignis reached up to grip at Ravus’s arm to keep himself afloat. But it seemed it startled Ravus out of the bite, as he immediately lifted his head. Silver strands falling into his face and blood running from his lips; Ignis’s breath caught in his throat and Ravus cleared his throat to speak.

“A problem?”

He hadn’t pulled away far, not enough. Not near enough to be continuing this conversation while in such close quarters; Ravus’s hand was still at his jaw, and Ignis’s on the prince’s arm. It was wholly improper. Ignis swallowed, and parted his lips to speak. “No, my apologies. It’s just– a lot.”

“It is,” Ravus agreed vaguely. He was staring in a way that ought to have been frightening. Uncomfortable. But it wasn’t. Gods, it wasn’t. “It can be,” Ravus said, and then leaned in to kiss him.

It was– shocking. Moreso because Ravus still had blood on his mouth and _tasted_ of it; his fangs had retracted but Ignis had the startling reality of tasting his own blood against his lips. It was macabre. It should have been horrible, and it was, in a way. But that was muted, overridden by the _emotion_ that was building up inside of him and threatening to break free– how many times had he put aside his wandering thoughts, how he had tried to convince himself that he was not smitten with Ravus Nox Fleuret– not any more than he needed to be for the sake of his position, anyway–

Perhaps he had passed out. Perhaps he was dreaming. And still Ignis couldn’t kiss him back, frozen to the spot for a long, _long_ moment. Too many years of engrained propriety and burying his feelings deep within his heart. Refusing to accept them.

And then he pulled back, spluttering from the taste of blood, unable to hold in the shock any longer. _“Ravus–!”_

“I–” Ravus dropped his hands. Ignis wanted to smooth away the furrow between his eyebrows, but settled with wiping his own mouth instead. “Excuse me,” the prince continued slowly. “I had thought… but perhaps I misread…” His eyes dropped all too pointedly and Ignis felt the mortification coil into his body, splashing a blush across his skin. His body was traitorous; even if Ravus could not see the extent of it, he would surely have _felt_ it with their closeness. Not to forget the innate ability to _smell._ If vampires could smell fear, then they surely could smell arousal as well.

Never before had Ignis been so humiliated. “Ah– apologies, Highness, I’ve– forgive me.” He sunk into a bow so low he nearly threatened to topple the rest of the way over, and was still startled when Ravus steadied his shoulder.

“Why are _you_ apologizing?”

“It’s… _improper–”_

_“I_ seemed to have made the first move,” Ravus interrupted, cocking his head. “If anyone need apologize, it is I.”

“No!” he blurted. Ravus apologizing to him. Ravus never needed to apologize to him. If anything, Ignis needed to be _thanking_ him, daily. And for him to apologize for something that Ignis _enjoyed,_ something Ignis would have liked to try again– no. Ignis took a breath and continued, aiming for calm. “You did not– it was not… not unwelcome.” He barely dared to say the words, but he couldn’t withhold them any longer. Not now, not after these… feedings. There could be no secrets regardless.

Ravus seemed to mull the words over, and Ignis waited whilst holding his breath. And then the prince smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Should I merely continuing feeding and pretend this never happened or shall I return to kissing you instead?”

The first option, surely. It was infinitely more safe– which was saying something, as it was a bite– and far more respectful, to allow Ravus to tend his blood needs and then continue on with work. There were countless documents to look over. Ravus’s clothes would need washed and mended if necessary, activity to prepare for the visiting comrades that would be here within the week.

But something was spurring him towards the second instead– and it wasn’t a question _what,_ not with the way Ravus was grinning at him, again fanged and still bloody, and Ignis wanted to be… improper.

He wouldn’t make such a bold move by itself, but he did step forward again. He was suddenly aware of the blood still running freely down his throat, brought to attention by Ravus’s gaze and the sticky warmth beneath his collarbone. “Both?” he said, and he could hardly be at fault if it came out sounding marginally like a question.

These were new territories. Ones he would very much– very selfishly– like to explore. With the glint in Ravus’s eye as the man leaned down to capture his mouth, Ignis, ever straight-laced, never daring to do a thing that would toe the proverbial line, would allow himself to be reckless, and kiss him back without reservation. He had to. It was near life or death, necessary as the air he needed to breathe and the blood Ravus needed to drink. Essential.

In the next breath, shaky against Ravus’s lips, Ignis laughed.

Ravus retracted slightly. “Yes?” he drawled, licking blood and saliva from his lips.

Ignis stared, and then shook his head. “I’m being ridiculous,” he said, and couldn’t help but grin at the circumstances. Him and the _prince of Tenebrae._ Gods. The Six must be smiling on him… or frowning. It was hard to say, but he found, just then, he didn’t care.

“You could stand to be ridiculous more often,” Ravus remarked.

He ought not to agree. But he did. “I could,” he said, and reached to tuck a piece of hair behind Ravus’s ear. “Were it not for my ever encompassing need to remain professional for my prince.”

“And if your prince bids you to be more… unprofessional, as you say?”

Ignis’s lips twitched towards a wider smile. “Then I would have no choice but to oblige. Over… time,” he added, slowly, a sobering reminder he had no prior experience with relationships. And he would still need time to process these _feelings._ And the reciprocation of them. (Gods, the _reciprocation–)_ “If permitted.”

“I will not press,” Ravus said immediately. “Fangs and claws aside, I still do not intend to hurt you. In _any_ way,” he clarified, and held out his hand.

Ignis took it. “I know.” He had always known, long before _these_ sensations had come into play.

“You trust me?”

“Indubitably.”

It was truly unfair, the way that Ravus could look at someone as though he could see to their soul. Perhaps he could. Once, when Ignis had been fresh blood in Fenestala Manor, it had been daunting. Now, it still was, but in a different way. Ignis opened his mouth to speak, and Ravus beat him to it.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for _far_ too long,” he said.

He wasn’t certain if his face had paled from its permanently flushed state, but it was threat to light up again at that. _And I you, Your Highness._ The words were on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t say them. Instead, he raised his free hand to tug at his bloodied collar, and tilted his head to the side again. An invitation.

Ravus laughed warmly, and descended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you been kissed by your vampire prince today?
> 
> _anyway_ this is honest to god one of my favorite chapters. for certain reasons I won't bore you with, but also because Ravus urging Ignis to be...... _unprofessional_


	5. Chapter 5

“So, you and my brother have finally expressed your feelings towards one another.”

Ignis fumbled the tray right out of his hands, and thanked the Six as the silverware landed on the carpet instead of hardwood. “Lady Luna, how…” Even if they could _smell_ Ravus on him, surely it was no different than any other time; they hadn’t done anything… _particularly_ risque, save feeding and snogging, and Ignis spent all of his free time with the prince regardless. Of _course_ he would smell of him; he was the chamberlain, and the only one in the household who was so close to Ravus.  But Luna…

“I told her.” Ravus strode into the room. The long white cloak he was wearing dragged across the floor, and Ignis stared. _He_ had…

“Ravus!” he hissed, clutching the tray between his fingers. “I thought we had _agreed–”_

Ravus stopped him with a bemused look, as Ignis remembered he was talking to the _prince_ despite how… _unprofessionally_ they had been behaving around one another the past handful of weeks. He was still his liege, albeit if he was also his… lover.

“It’s only my _sister._ I could hardly hope to keep something so monumental from her.” He dropped into the oversize armchair, and tipped his head back. “Likely she figured it out weeks ago,” he continued, closing his eyes, “nevermind being too polite to say anything.”

“It was not my place to ask without at least _one_ of you admitting to it,” Luna said. “Even if you two haven’t been terribly subtle.”

He tried to think back. Had they truly been so _obvious?_ They had agreed it better to avoid sharing details about the latest development in their relationship. Ravus seemingly bedding a human wouldn’t shock as many as it would cause gossip about _Ignis’s_ intentions– attempting to climb the ranks. Yes, from an outsider’s point of view, he could envision it. But it wasn’t that. It had never been that.

It wasn’t even about the euphoria of being fed upon. He was both pleased and proud to be able to service his prince in any way possible, now more than ever, but even were it not a necessity, he would still be certain in his feelings. Bloodletting or not, he was, undeniably, in love with Ravus.

The bloodletting was just an exhilarating side effect, as it were.

 _“Have_ we been transparent in our interactions…?” he asked quietly, and Lunafreya laughed.

“No, dear Ignis,” she said, reaching up to take the teapot from his hands. He opened his mouth to protest her pouring her own cup of tea, and she waved away his concern before he could even begin. “But you have spent nearly your whole life here, with Ravus and I. You are our _friend._ We can see things that others cannot for our closeness. Nuances of your behavior.”

“My Lady…”

That was… _touching_. He considered himself friend privately, and the Fleurets had been nothing but kind to him since he had arrived. But neither of them had ever spoken so boldly about their friendship, rarely acknowledged it in so many words at all.

“As well the way you look at him now,” Luna continued, eyes twinkling.

 _Ahh,_ and there was the teasing. He adjusted his spectacles and returned to serving afternoon tea. “I’ve no idea what you mean, Lady Lunafreya,” he said lightly, as his back was turned.

“I see.” Luna laughed softly. The soft clink of a glass cup on saucer. “That asides, I know my brother best of all in this life. I can see the distinction between the Ravus of a few weeks ago and the Ravus who is in love.”

“Sister.”

“What? It's only the truth.” She looked across the room at him. “You're very tender to the ones you care about. Usually it's only ever me or Mother. It's encouraging to see you handling someone else that way.”

 _“Encouraging?”_ Ravus repeated. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you are a good brother, and full of love, but are absolute shite at expressing it.”

“Luna _freya!”_

Ignis stifled a laugh, holding up a cup in question to Ravus. He waved it away, and continued to Lunafreya, “Mother would wash your mouth to hear you speak in such a manner.”

“A good thing she doesn't know our secrets, then,” she said, smiling. “Right, brother?”

It was with a heavy sigh that Ravus folded to her again, fingers tapping out a inconsistent beat on the chair. “This is one thing that we… will have to avoid telling Mother.”

“Unfortunately so,” Luna replied shortly. “Under different circumstances, she would be so overjoyed to hear of this news…”

 _Under different circumstances._ Right. The very stark reminder that _he_ was the outlier to this family; he was human to their vampire, he was _common_ in comparison to their nobility. Of course a relationship between him and Ravus would not be looked kindly upon.

“She would not. If anything, I’d be forced into an arranged marriage much the same as your own.”

 _“My_ betrothal will be of a slightly different necessity.”

“And mine would be to find a wife by which to provide heirs for,” Ravus sneered. “A task I wish very much never to be involved in. And you,” Ignis jumped slightly, steeling his expression to turn around, “need not stew in silence. Say what you are thinking.”

 _“Ravus,”_ Luna admonished. “By the stars above, you need a hard lesson in tact.”

“I–” Ravus made a face. “– apologize. Habit, I suppose.” He looked back at Ignis and, softer now, “apologies, Ignis. The balance is… precarious at best, now. But do not hold back on our accounts.”

“I am sorry that my brother,” Luna said, grumbling over her tea, “has known you for all of your adult life and still does not manage to outwardly display a gentle bone in his body. If I weren’t his sister, I could not imagine what you see in him.”

Ravus glared halfheartedly, and Ignis pushed away the thoughts of hands framing his face, fingers twisting at the ends of his hair, and the way Ravus _looked_ at him so kindly when they were folded upon the sofa together. It wasn’t that Ravus couldn’t be gentle; Ignis knew it was years upon years of a public persona and the need to _not_ express himself in such a manner. How could he think otherwise… when he kissed him so softly in the vestiges of morning light? He knew. He knew.

And there were more important things to think about, as it were.

“Is it the fact that I’m human, or that I come from an unremarkable family that would sit poorly with the Queen?” he asked carefully. Part of him didn’t truly want the answer, part of him already knew. But if they were being open and honest here…

“I wouldn’t say you’re of an unremarkable family,” Lunafreya said slowly. “The Scientias have been serving vampire clans for decades now.”

“Then I’m remarkable in the sense I haven’t been turned,” he said bluntly. While what Lady Lunafreya said was true– the Scientia family had only ever existed purely to serve– Ignis was the only one left in his family that _wasn’t_ a vampire. Even his uncle had been blooded, years and years ago. Well and truly the outlier. Call him ridiculous, but he favored his humanity.

“Yes.”

“Would it ease the process if I _were?”_

“No,” Ravus said immediately, while Luna agreed with a “likely not.”

Ignis pursed his lips.

“You do not wish to be turned,” Ravus said. “It’s very simple. Your humanity versus a… clandestine relationship… there is no question of which we favor.”

Ignis smiled, very faintly. His protectiveness was, ever, reassuring.

“That aside, you’re missing the most obvious.”

“That I am a man,” he supplied. He had already guessed, long before this conversation had begun. The main reason that their relationship need be secret. Bedding a blood donor regardless of gender hardly mattered, but a committed relationship would. Ravus, as he’d plainly said, was expected to assist in continuing the Fleuret bloodline. No amount of contemplation was going to help either of them, in that regard.

“Indeed…”

They were all three silent for a moment, before Lunafreya spoke again.

“Perhaps it would not be so bad. If The Chosen and I–”

“No.”

“Ravus, he and I will be expected to bear children when the time comes–”

“Yes, but I need not think about it,” he muttered.

She only rolled her eyes _slightly._ “I’m only mentioning for the benefit of one day telling Mother, that is all.”

“It truly need not apply,” Ignis interrupted quietly. “As pointed out, I am human. My lifespan compared to yours is… merely a blink of an eye.”

Ravus made a face, and Lunafreya sighed.

“Oh, _Ignis.”_

“It’s truth, however, my Lady. My lifetime spent in service to the household probably passes like a month or so for your family, and human servants are ten-a-penny when it comes to vampire nobility.”

“No one is going to be able to replace you,” she said.

“But they will,” he said gently. He had no qualms on his mortality. He couldn’t, not living here, not with his life. He didn’t plan on going so _soon,_ but there was no doubt that his story would be well and truly finished before the Fleurets had barely begun. Such was the consequence of being a human in a vampire’s service. “One day.”

“I don’t want to think of this, _either,”_ Ravus interrupted, and Ignis must have imagined the way that his voice sounded slightly strained if only because the man’s face was as impassive as ever. “Six above, the whole conversation has gone off-putting.”

“Yes,” Luna agreed brightly. “Let us speak of something else before we send my dear brother into septicemic shock.”

Ravus groaned softly, and Ignis tucked the conversation away as further food for thought that he truly didn’t care to ruminate on himself, either.

  


“She is correct, you’re aware.”

Ravus sat, long legs stretched out on the mattress in front of him, as Ignis dutifully traversed the room to snuff the candles.

“She, Your Highness?” He had to admit that his attention was divided; he’d heard the kitchens had welcomed a whole arrival of fresh fish during the day, and Ignis was keen on trying a new recipe he’d been turning over in his head for the past few weeks. If he could get his hands on a good halibut… and adding shallots into the dish would bring out the flavor…

“My sister.”

“Oh, of course. There was never any doubt.” He paused only for a moment before he lifted the snuffer from the wick, and gently wafted the smoke away. “But on which topic again?”

“You are irreplaceable.”

 _That_ gave him pause. “… ah.” How terribly heavy such words had become in the past few weeks, the flush of heat and embarrassment coloring the tops of his ears. So this was what it was like to be in love. “And you as well, High– Ravus,” he amended, casting a soft smile over his shoulder.

“And yet I’m not in danger of going anywhere anytime soon,” Ravus replied. His voice was _wrong_ now, less calculated, more sharp. _Emotional._

Ignis turned to address him. “Nor am I, I would hope. I would stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“I would have you forever.”

Oh, but he _was_ emotional. “Ravus…”

The man sat up a little straighter, eyebrows furrowing. “That wasn’t a proposition. Merely a… ah…”

“Declaration?” Ignis tried, and Ravus nodded curtly.

“Yes. That. A declaration.”

He took a breath and held it in, focusing on the swell of air in his lungs and the way his heart seemed to distend alongside it. It was… good to hear. Ravus was tricky. Unemotional in the best of circumstances, so many rules of behaviors he was expected to have as the prince of Tenebrae. Saving face to save the kingdom. Ignis was well-versed on that himself. Between the two of them? Expressing emotion was… so very fraught with complication.

He was no better on the matter. Ignis let the breath rush from his lungs, the tension reaching crescendo and then ebbing away with a tiny smile and five uttered words. “I love you, too, Ravus.”

“Come,” Ravus said, amidst a tiny smile and offering his hand.

“Ah, but–”

“Candles,” Ravus said idly. “And then bed,” he continued, and settled back into the bed as Ignis went to snuff the rest of the flames.

Candles, yes. However, the anxiety was gnawing in the center of his stomach as he extinguished nearly the last of them. All thoughts of composure nearly immediately gone at the face of sharing a bed with the man– in whatever regard, it was another step further and Ignis wasn’t certain how he could ever be expected to fall asleep while pressed flush against the prince. (Not that he hadn’t thought of it– he had– he _had._ Several times over, moreso since they had begun to court, but– _fantasies_ were as such, and how to handle it in the face of this one in particular coming true?)

If he wanted, he could turn down the offer and be none the worse for his worries. Ravus wouldn’t begrudge him for it. But… he didn’t _truly_ want to go. It was just nerves. Expected, given the circumstances, even if he particularly detested feeling so endlessly flustered and confused. Usually, he was so well put together. But when it came to things of this nature…

He lingered over the candle at Ravus’s nightstand, hesitating.

Arms slid around his waist, and Ignis jumped despite himself.

 _“Sleep,_ Ignis.” Ravus tucked his face against Ignis’s lower back. “Only that. You have my word.”

He breathed out sharply, hands falling to rest on top of Ravus’s. “I wasn’t worried.”

“So you _say.”_

Fine, so attempting to hide his emotional state from a vampire– let alone Ravus– was indeed a lost cause. “Not in the way you’d imagine,” he amended, and finally extinguished the last candle.

Ravus only hummed, retracting enough to settle back on the bed and make space for Ignis.

It was no different than being folded into the sofa with him, an arm around his shoulders as he settled into the pillows next to the prince. Not really. The bed in itself had connotation, but it need not apply. And, letting Ravus bypass the arm around his shoulders and tuck him flush against his chest, this was _nice._

Well versed in Ravus's life as he was, he knew it wasn't the first time the man had had someone in his bed. Donating blood led to forays of the sexual nature, certainly. Not often on Ravus's behalf, but it had happened. Ignis had never paid much mind, but now… now _he_ was the one being held so warmly in Ravus's embrace, and he was glad that it was _him_ and not anyone else.

Jealous, he supposed. No, _possessive_ was more apt. Unbecoming of himself to feel such things but then…

Ignis turned his face, tucking his head beneath Ravus's chin.

… he supposed he was permitted, these days.

“Goodnight, Ravus,” he murmured, and closed his eyes as Ravus held him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so tired and slow and I'll try to update more regularly T___T enjoy some victorian emotionally constipated boys in love for now
> 
> au housekeeping note: Luna and Noct aren't engaged. not really in each other's radars on this timeline. so Noct and Ignis haven't met, and Ravus isn't being snobby about Luna having sex with Noct, he's just being crabby that SOMEONE will eventually bed her and they sure as hell won't be good enough for his lil sis. thanks big bro


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m not certain how you think this is _funny.”_

It was, honestly. Ignis’s protest was only halfhearted, beckoned on by the blood staining along the front of his shirt. Ruined, undoubtedly. He couldn’t find it in himself to care much.

That asides, Ravus was _laughing._ Ignis could think of several things that would have been better than one of his fellow servants walking into the parlor at the exact moment Ravus had him pressed into the sofa, teeth in his neck. Most things, in fact, given how they had been keeping both their feedings and their relationship secret, and Ignis knew firsthand how everyone in this manor could _talk._

“Your face. _Her_ face,” Ravus amended, hiding a fanged smile behind a bloodied hand. “For being a vampire herself, she certainly looked as though she’d taken a fright to seeing the supernatural.”

“Yes, well, _I_ am _human,”_ he retorted, pressing a hand to the wound at his neck. “And, as far as they’ve heard and relentlessly gossiped over, wish to _stay_ human and have never been bitten.” He glanced at the blood beginning to slick his hand, and Ravus grabbed his wrist to bring to his mouth. “She probably thought you were trying to _turn_ me!”

“Her fault for jumping to conclusions.” Ravus licked along his palm. “Besides, if they know you as well as I do, they’d know you have no interest in being turned.”

“Of _course_ they don’t know me as well as you do.” Ignis breathed out sharply as his fangs brushed a fingertip. “You’re the only one who knows me this way.”

“Mm.” The prick of incisors replaced with the lightest pass of lips against his finger. “I enjoy that.”

 _“Do_ you?” Ignis asked faintly, and very nearly gave into the urge to press his finger past Ravus’s lips and tongue and teeth. He did not, however. There was still blood on his hands and his shirt and his throat. The chaise as well. Praise the Six the fabric was dark to begin with. “The blood, Ravus–”

“Yes, yes. I’m working on it.” He took Ignis’s hand in his own and moved back to his neck, mouthing along the blood and puncture wounds there.

“They’ll gossip tonight,” Ignis said idly. “Everyone will know before dusk.”

“I swore her to secrecy.” Ravus’s reply was barely a mumble. “That asides, it wasn’t as though she walked in on us engaging in sex.”

Ignis didn’t think it was possible to flush further, but he was continually proving himself wrong. His body felt like it was on fire, burning into ozone at the place where Ravus’s fangs sank into his neck again. He couldn’t help a tiny moan, and felt Ravus grin against his skin.

“Close enough,” Ignis managed.

“Is it?”

“… perhaps?” he murmured, and felt Ravus pause.

“Perhaps,” Ravus repeated, and pulled away from his neck. His hand fell away from Ignis’s, settled lightly against his chest. “May I, then?”

He breathed out slowly, and then inclined his head. “Please.”

Two weeks ago and he had said differently, but amazing how quickly an opinion changed. Or, perhaps, he thought, as Ravus set to mouthing a bruise beneath the bite on his neck, as a hand roamed over the blood-stained fabric at his chest, it was because of the intimacy of their existence together anyway. Or, most likely, the fact that Ravus could make him feel comfortable with anything, sneak past his walls and still make him feel endlessly protected.

Ravus’s fingers were nimble as they unbuttoned his waistcoat, and shirt, and Ignis arched into the touch of his fingertips brushing his bare chest.

The fact was that it was _Ravus,_ and he loved the man with every fibre of his being. He trusted him. He wanted to experience _everything_ with him. At the end of the night? It remained as simple as that.

He’d thought about this sort of thing before– ashamedly, even _before_ he and Ravus had started to court– both in passing and detail. It was _different_ when it was in practice, however, the pass of Ravus’s cool hand against his chest. His fingertips brushing low over his stomach, tracing patterns that made Ignis shiver, made him want to tip his mouth back to the prince’s and kiss him. It was in that moment that he allowed himself to, raising a hand to guide Ravus’s mouth back to his.

Ravus made a noise, sounding pleased. He kissed him for a moment longer and then pulled back to look down at him. “We’d be more comfortable in bed, Ignis.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Probably.”

“Only probably?” Ravus repeated in amusement.

“Yes,” Ignis agreed, and slid his fingers into his hair.

“This is _not_ the way to get us into bed.” Ravus’s voice was barely a rumble, lips dipping low against his skin again.

“Apologies,” Ignis said idly, keeping ahold of his hair. Not guiding, merely… enjoying. The feel of silky soft strands beneath his fingertips, pleasure instead of duty and the feel of Ravus’s mouth against the hollow his throat. His tongue beneath a collarbone, drawing forth another tiny gasp.

The prince laughed. “Allow me,” he said. Hands shifted, lips removed from his skin, and the next thing Ignis knew, he was being bodily pulled from the chaise lounge and pulled up into Ravus’s arms. He had to scramble for purchase, hurrying to throw his arms around Ravus’s neck.

“Ra–Ravus!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you moving anytime soon.”

“I’ll get blood on the bed.”

“As if it would be the first time.”

It was with a tiny, exasperated laugh that Ignis hooked a leg around Ravus’s waist so not to fall, and then tilted his head back to be able to kiss him _again._ And again. Limitless, like every dream, and Ravus deposited him onto the bed and settled between his legs.

“You’re alright?” he asked. His head fell to the side slightly, and he swept his hair out of his eyes.

Ignis nodded. “Yes. Thank you. This is…” He didn’t have the words. Truly. He didn’t know how to describe this exactly, skin prickling warm with embarrassment. Beneath the blood and bruises and _nerves,_ oh _Gods,_ those too– but it was good. More than that.

Ravus seemed to take his meaning, without him needing to say a word.

“My intentions,” he said, fingering at the buttons on Ignis’s trousers. “I’ll make them very clear. I intend to fuck you.” _Astrals._ “With your permission, of course.” Ravus braced a hand against the bed, leaning in to mouth against his neck again. A pass of his tongue against the blood drying there, and then he pulled back to look at him. “After all, a vampire can’t come inside without permission,” he said, and winked, and Ignis dissolved into nervous laughter.

Astrals, the change in atmosphere. Was this what sex was meant to be like? Funny enough that he couldn’t imagine it any other way. Perhaps it was only for his own benefit, however. Ravus would surely know about his… lack of experience, and his prince _had_ only ever tried to make him comfortable.

His fingers were back to tracing along the buttons. “Ignis?”

“I–” He took a breath. “I assure you that I would deter you if I weren’t interested.”

Ravus grinned, fingers slipping a button free of the hole. “You don’t have to speak in that way, you know.”

“Which way is that?” He raised a hand to unclasp the cufflinks on his shirt. If Ravus noticed his hands trembling, he did not mention.

“Proper.” Another button. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard you say ‘fuck.’”

 _I’d rather hear you say it,_ he thought blindly, and then tossed his cufflinks aside. “Fuck,” he repeated instead, and if he felt slightly ridiculous for saying it aloud, then the spark in Ravus’s mismatched eyes was all the more worth it.

“Oh, you could do that more often.” Ravus finished off the last of the buttons and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops to shimmy them down.

“So could you.” It was spoken without thought, alongside the rush of cold air over bare skin.

“Maybe you’ll _fuck_ me next time.”

“Maybe,” Ignis agreed, and grabbed a handful of his hair to pull him in for a kiss.

  


 

It was a hazy sensation, brought on by both blood loss and overstimulation, he thought. Or maybe it was mostly blood loss. Perhaps all of it had been some indistinct dream– but then, it wasn’t indistinct at all, and Ignis had never had the problem of _aching_ during his dreams. No, this was so very real, and infinite times better than any dream he might have ever had.

“I didn’t intend to do that. I forget how _fragile_ humans are.”

Ignis tensed as Ravus’s fingers settled, perfectly matched with the five points of pain pressed above his kneecap. Really, it was more _sensation_ than _pain,_ a helpful reminder to the past… well, time was a construct far too large for him to comprehend right now. Perhaps it had been ten minutes and perhaps it had been ten years.

“It’ll bruise.”

“Because my entire neck won’t be black and blue,” he mumbled. Then he cleared his throat and nudged Ravus’s hand away. “I don’t mind.”

“You’ll mind if you can’t walk tomorrow.” Ravus settled his arm back around his waist. “You can have the day off.”

Ignis made a noise. “I don’t–”

“Just let yourself be _compliant,_ Ignis,” Ravus said, ducking his head to kiss his arm. “Now _is_ the time.”

“I can do my job…” A halfhearted protest, truly. At present, Ignis couldn’t imagine even leaving Ravus’s bed, let alone needing to _work._ The two barely mixed, business and pleasure, and he would… much rather bask in the pleasure for awhile longer.

Ravus was a solid presence beside him. Both of their clothes had been long discarded, only the silk sheets pulled up over his own waist. Ravus was still laying mostly on top of them, just this side of pale in the flickering light.

Ignis stared blankly at a cluster of freckles upon the man’s hip, and then rest his hand on top of Ravus’s arm. “Thank you.” He still felt dazed. He felt like he could be dazed for weeks to come.

“For what?” Ravus grunted.

“… having me?” It sounded ridiculous– proven further by Ravus’s muffled laugh a second later– as though he were only expressing gratitude for the sex. But then it was far more than that, and he didn’t think he was in the correct state of mind to try and articulate that. “For having me,” he repeated, with a tiny bit more confidence despite the absurdity of it all.

“Thank you for having _me,_ then,” Ravus retorted. “And for allowing me to take care of you for once in your life.”

“Fair,” Ignis murmured. There was a lazy smile threatening to pull up his lips, but then that was more effort than he could expend as well. “Shall we call it an even trade?”

“Just so.” Ravus mouthed as his skin once more before pulling him in.

Ignis allowed himself to be tucked up against his chest only after he had fixed the blankets, coaxing Ravus under them instead of on top of. Bad practice, that. He could still do his job. “Wouldn’t do to catch a chill, Highness…” he explained, and then allowed Ravus to curl around him, perhaps in a way that was as protective as it felt.

The tiny huff of exasperated laughter, and the way Ravus stayed in bed despite the moonlight shining outside, made Ignis reiterate:

yes, this was an even trade, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, isn't happiness nice
> 
> the vamps can't come inside without permission quote was a thing from twitter but... i can't remember... who... or where...


	7. Chapter 7

“Call the Royal Healer! At once!”

The doors slammed against the wall, and Ignis fumbled the drawer of dining utensils right out of his hands. The crash went unnoticed by the commotion from the foyer, and he only caught a glimpse of a white coat – stained red – before the gathered crowd bustled back through the doorway.

“Ravus…?”

The forks and spoons lay forgotten. Propriety forgotten as well, Ignis stepped over the mess and sprinted into the foyer with Lady Lunafreya close behind him. He followed the noise and the trail of blood, dread slamming into him. It wouldn’t be the first injury, and not even the first attack, if it were a thing of that nature, but this was the first time Ravus hadn’t stalked in by his own accord. The first time the Healer had been called with such urgency, and the panic was threat to make him ill. Perhaps it was misguided. He prayed it was misguided.

“Your Highness!”

“Alert the Queen, immediately.”

“Ravus.” Ignis slipped through the throng until even he couldn’t see through the bustle. “Sermo.” He squeezed in next to one of their friends, touching their shoulder for attention. “What has happened?”

“I heard it was an assassination attempt on the prince.”

Ignis’s blood ran cold.

“From _Niflheim,_ even. Someone mentioned the emperor having had a part in it!”

He was reeling already. Certainly assassination attempts were not uncommon, but rare that one even so much as landed as scratch. Not that that had ever been a good deterrent to the rampant worry on the matter, but now…

“How dire is it?” he asked.

“No doubt that he’ll heal, but it looked bad. I couldn’t say how long it may take for those kinds of injuries to heal…”

Gods above. “I need to see him.” He’d barely said the words aloud before he was deterred, as thin, delicate fingers clutched at his own.

“Ignis, wait.”

It was reflex that nearly had him pull his hand away regardless, and instinct that saved him when he realized it was Lunafreya. “My Lady–”

“It is not safe for you now,” she said urgently. “Allow me to tend my brother in your stead.”

“I need–”

“We need not risk another life,” Luna interrupted. “It is not safe for _you._ Ignis, _please.”_ Stubbornly, she clung onto his fingers. “I will bring you details as soon as I can. For now, allow us to oversee his injuries.”

There was no real argument to the matter, and the longer he kept Lunafreya, the longer Ravus would be without someone familiar nearby. Even if he wasn’t conscious– _was_ he conscious?– standing here, hesitating, wasn’t getting either of them any answers. And Luna barely looked more put together than he was.

“… yes,” he relented. “Of course, My Lady. My apologi–”

“No.” She squeezed his fingers, and then let go. “No apologies. I’ll come find you soon.” She hitched her dress up over her calves, shouldering her way through the gathered crowd. “Excuse me. Allow me to pass–”

Ignis watched her go, and clenched his fingers into fists at his sides.

  


It had been a grievous injury. Had it been anyone else, they would have succumbed to the wound. It would have been fatal to those not of pureblood status, but given the increased rate of strength and healing found within those of the Nox Fleuret’s lineage, Ravus had survived.

 _However…_ the wound wasn’t a foolproof one, and it wasn’t a minor scrape. What might have healed in a flash would not in this case, and the Healer worried over the state of Ravus’s left arm for the future. Ignis couldn’t think about it. All he could think about was Ravus waking from his comatose– healing– state. All he could think about was that it could take _ages_ , and that there was no guarantee that he would even wake up in Ignis’s lifetime. While he doubted it would come to that, the possibility remained that it _might._

And so the weeks would pass.

It was _strange,_ to be without Ravus. So used to his presence was Ignis that the manor felt utterly _devoid_ of life, despite the fact that duty continued and there was still work to be done. And so they went, back and forth with the same old motions, Ignis capping off each night to settle in next to Ravus’s bedside for the dawn.

And then it was back to the daily routine, tea in silence with Lunafreya and dodging the Queen’s inquisitive looks when she came to sit with her son. Ravus slept, and slept, and Ignis felt like he didn’t sleep at all.

And then, apropos of nothing, Ravus woke, and Ignis was bursting into the prince’s bedroom to find himself face to face with Sylva Via Fleuret herself.

They both were _staring_ at him, Sylva with a look of shock that was quickly devolving to a reprimand and Ravus, beautiful, _conscious_ Ravus, groggy and vaguely surprised.

“A–Ah.” Ignis took a step back, but didn’t leave the doorway. “Forgive me, Ma’am, I wasn’t aware–”

“I _tried_ to tell you,” Luna whispered from behind him. _She,_ at least, sounded amused.

Ignis couldn’t find it in himself to be as properly mortified as he might have been. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away from Ravus, from the frankly stupid smile that man was trying to conceal. Thank the _Gods._

“Lunafreya.” Sylva gestured her forward. “Mister Scientia, a moment, if you would be so kind.”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” He vaguely felt he was babbling. Another glance at Ravus, and a bow to the three of them. Ravus’s grin was a fanged one as Ignis closed the door behind himself.

This time, he was well aware of the breath that he was holding, and he thought he very nearly crumpled under the weight of the past weeks as he finally exhaled.

  


“I hope you plan to never do that again,” he said conversationally, wiping a smudge of soot away from his own face. The fireplaces truly were a mess. He had been slacking.

“Attempt to die?” Ravus hummed, and his paperwork rustled as he flipped through the pages. “Yes, I will try to keep it to a minimum, Ignis, thank you.”

It was the worst kind of humor, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. Still, more important matters. “How is your arm?”

Ravus grunted, and Ignis glanced over his shoulder to him. “I’m not certain, to be frank.” Ravus clenched and relaxed his fingers, and Ignis’s eyebrows furrowed at the lack of the fist he ought to be able to make.

“The pain hasn’t gone?”

“It isn’t so much pain as it is a lack of… everything, honestly.” Ravus dropped his hand back to the table. “They’ve informed me it may yet take a backwards slide, as a matter of something to look forward to,” he said dryly.

“I’m certain it will heal.” The flue was going to take ages to finish preparing. Ignis sighed, and sat back on his ankles. Ravus wouldn’t begrudge him the break, but the room was cold and smelled of ash, and darkness was falling outside the windows. He turned away to breathe a breath of cleaner air, and leveled his gaze at the prince again. “You just need a touch more blood, I’m certain.”

“Perhaps.”

“Back to your regularly scheduled donors, then?”

Ravus raised his eyebrows. “So, you.”

“Of course.” He held out his hand aloft, offering his wrist. “I could do with a break, anyhow.”

Perhaps the prince rolled his eyes, but he barely hesitated in rising from the table. “You never used to be so incorrigible, _Scientia.”_

Was it embarrassing that he was nearly thrumming in anticipation? He _missed_ these feedings. It had been so long. He had been studiously denied from lending a vein immediately following Ravus’s awakening. _Finally,_ he thought, and shrugged, very lightly. Affecting an air of nonchalance. “You’re healing, Your Highness. I worry only for your health and safety.”

Ravus snorted, folding to his knees next to him. He reached for Ignis’s wrist, but Ignis held it out of the way.

“My neck,” he said gently, raising two fingers to tap at his skin. “It’s easier for you.”

“Better for me.”

“Yes.”

“Just that,” Ravus said, with the same, dry tone, but the fingers of his right hand were deft as they undid and shifted Ignis’s collar, and he was smiling before he descended upon his neck.

The pain was almost a _blessing,_ and Ignis bit his tongue to hide a tiny, helpless moan. It was akin to returning home after a long journey, settling into bed at the end of a long day. _Right._ _Oh,_ he had missed the closeness, too wrapped up in duty and worry.

“Only that,” he mumbled vaguely, delayed, and tilted his head to further bare his skin to him.

Ravus said nothing, a hand at his back and atop his thigh. And this was bliss. So very close to rapture, and he was falling into the weight of it all. His mind was drifting, and he thought he made a soft note of pleasure. And then, even more vaguely, he realized it was a noise of _pain–_ of _something not right._ Of feeling too drained too quickly– but perhaps he had been drifting longer than he’d thought– but Ravus wasn’t pulling away and Ignis made a garbled noise– a question, perhaps, maybe just his _name–_

He couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Somewhere, internally, mostly, he was becoming aware that Ravus’s hands on him were _restrictive,_ and the mouth at his neck hot and insistent and his fangs were still very much embedded into his throat. Somewhere, he thought he ought to be panicking. Somewhere else, Ignis knew he’d let Ravus continue regardless.

He would pull away on his own, after his fill. Surely… surely…

surely...

The darkness from outside the windows was enclosing upon him, and Ignis hazily found that he maybe wasn’t so certain after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, sorry, did you think this was a _happy_ story??? WHEEZES


	8. Chapter 8

Somewhere, basely, Ignis was aware off the fact that he ought to be opening his eyes. Somewhere, beneath the pain and the strange muted feeling keeping him well within its grasp. Somewhere where he couldn't pull himself up from the depths, but could still hear everything that was going. Some of what was going on.

“Luna–” Ravus's voice. A way he ought never to sound like. “You need to–”

“I need space.”

“I'm not _leaving–_ ”

“You can and you will, now go!” Luna ordered.

The faintest pass of air against his skin, Ignis supposed. The brush of dainty hands against him. Hot and cold at the same time. What was _happening?_

The sound of footsteps. Panicked whispering, and then silence.

Silence.

Ignis drifted.

  


“Sister–!”

Displacement. Fabric shifting, the sound of a body slumping against another. Ignis wasn’t certain how he could pick out the details, but they were almost in startling clarity.

“This is… beyond my power, Ravus…”

“Then… Mother–”

“– would sooner let him die if she realized what he was to you,” Luna interrupted. Her voice was weak. She sounded like she was drifting just as much as Ignis felt he was, but rationalizing that was conscious thought. Ignis didn’t think himself capable of it, then.

“That’s _unacceptable–”_

“He is a _human servant_ … a _man_ you love, Ravus, she would never–”

“No. _No–”_

Ravus, frantic in ways Ignis couldn’t understand. Had never heard in his life. It ought to strike fear in him.

It didn’t.

  


“– is the only way.”

“You know that I cannot–”

“You _can!_ Or he will die, Ravus.”

“I can’t do that to him. Not like this. Not ever, even, you _know_ –”

“I am not here to _coddle_ you, brother!” The urgency was the only thing to abruptly affect Ignis. A brief instant of it, and then gone. “I cannot heal him and he has hours at most! You took the risk every time you bit him, this is _your_ responsibility! _You_ have to make this choice, not I!”

“I won’t take away his humanity this way!”

“You already _have!”_

A pause.

Luna was the one to continue. “… guilt isn’t my intention. I know you feel enough of it as is. … we both do.”

“This wasn’t _your_ fault.”

“I should have been here with the two of you while you were still healing. I take as much blame in that regard. And, that asides… my training has been for naught if I cannot save a single man.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ravus repeated, perhaps vehemently. But it sounded weak. So weak.

“… I would blood him myself if I could, brother, you know this.”

“… I know.”

“I am sorry for being curt. I’m sorry for all of it. But this isn’t… time is of the essence, and this is _Ignis_ we’re speaking of. This is…”

“… reality,” Ravus whispered.

Weak, _weak._

He thought he imagined the feeling of his hand against tendrils of hair, his palm against a cheek. He thought he imagined the feeling of tears beneath his fingers, and then he didn’t think at all.

  


Consciousness returned all at once. It hurt like a certain kind of living hell.

For a short moment, Ignis wasn’t certain _why._ His memory was fuzzy and sharp at the same time; details slow to filter back in like awakening from a long nap. But he was buzzing at the same time, wildly aware, thoughts filtering through like tasks filed away to be performed later but immediately forgotten.

It was strange, and overwhelming, and the pain throbbing through his body did little to ease the mental discomfort.

Factor in that he had no idea where he _was…_ everything was unfamiliar, dark and rich and endless. His eyes ached. His ears were thumping with the silence. Where was Ravus?

“Ignis.”

He jerked forward. The momentum nearly sent him tumbling off the bed, a tangle of blankets in his lap. The voice at his side was unfamiliar. Sounded strange, and the atmosphere smelled strange, and there was that _ache,_ the pounding echoing in his head and limbs and mind settling into a point in his throat, and his teeth, and he opened his mouth to speak and his tongue scraped against something _too_ sharp. The taste of metal in his mouth, of _blood ~~––~~_

Ignis stopped.

Oh. _Oh._

Oh no. Oh _God–_

“Ignis,” the voice at his side repeated, and Ignis whipped around to face it.

It was a man, middle-aged. Short brown hair and blue eyes. Black fabric and skull print and… no, _no,_ not human. He was a vampire. He was a vampire, like _Ignis_ was, now…

Ignis couldn’t help a tiny whimper, and pressed his palm over his lips.

“My name is Cor Leonis,” the man said. Then he reached to the small nightstand and held out a dark mug. “Drink this.”

He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t need to. “No,” he ground out, and kept his hand at his mouth.

“If you think you can starve yourself, you’re mistaken.”

“No.” He wanted to be _stern._ But Gods, he wanted to drink, and there was no hope of it being bourbon or whiskey. No hope at all.

“You’ve been awake three times over and bit me the last time.” He held up his hand, still bandaged, and Ignis winced. Vampire on vampire injuries tended to take longer to heal, part of why Ravus had taken so long to recuperate– “You need to drink, or you _will_ do it unwillingly. Right now it remains your choice.”

Ignis hesitated. And then shook the thought away, looking off towards the window. The curtains were drawn. “Where is His Highness?”

“His Highness?”

_“Ravus.”_

“In Tenebrae, I would imagine.”

Ignis looked back. “In…” Stopped. “Where am _I?”_ he amended, and tried to will his fangs to recede. He felt as though he were going to vomit. The answer to his question… was not going to assuage that, he was certain.

“This is Insomnia, the capital of Lucis.”

“Lucis…” he repeated. It sounded so _foreign_ on his tongue.

He knew of Lucis. He had studied everything he had ever been able to get his hands on regarding all of the neighboring nations, both as a learning exercise and as a way to gather information on Tenebrae’s enemies and allies. But this… Cor Leonis… informing him that _he_ was in Lucis, and that Ravus was in Tenebrae…

This was wrong. This was all so _wrong._

“As a token of goodwill to Lucis, you were transferred to our care to become chamberlain to _our_ prince, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

No.

This wasn’t happening. It could not be happening.

… but it _was_ happening, so very clear in the thirst rattling his bones and the fangs currently scraping his own tongue.

He was in Lucis, and he was a vampire.

The breath whisked in through a too tight throat, and Ignis shuddered as he reached out his hand for the earlier offered mug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we're in more familiar territory--- _whoops_ my hand slipped
> 
>  
> 
> ~~vampire Cor though~~


	9. Chapter 9

“Ignis.”

He raised a hand in greeting. “Gladiolus.”

“Oh come on.”

“Gladio,” he relented, and sighed. “Nicknames are hardly professional while on the job–”

“Yeah, that’s why you call the prince ‘Noct,’ huh?”

“He _insists,”_ he said, exasperated. “Far be it from my position to go against his wishes, but it feels so… _blasphemous.”_

“Blasphemous?” Gladio laughed, so loudly that one of the glaive looked at him from their posts. “Gods, Ignis, you’ve really got to get the stick out of–”

“Oh, there you two are!”

Ignis glanced up as Prompto edged around the corner.

“Prompto.”

“Afternoon,” Ignis greeted, and then paused when he noticed the small, black box nestled within the blonde’s hands. “A new project?”

“It’s a camera!”

“A… wait, that little thing?”

“Yeah! They’re making them, ah, portable now? Smaller. For average people.” He held it up. “Get together, I’ll take a photograph!”

“Prompto. We’re vampires.”

“Oh, crud.”

 _“You’re_ a vampire as well,” Ignis chided gently. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, I have to press the button, so I wasn’t trying to take a photo of myself…” He shrugged, and waved his hands at them. “Get together, anyway! We can pretend!”

“Prompto, I really need to get these to–”

Gladio slung an arm around his shoulder. “Aw, pose for a picture won’t be in. Don’t crush a dream.”

“Oh, and I thought I was so good at that,” he said dryly, a tiny smile threatening his careful facade.

It had been… difficult… to settle into life at Lucis. Or perhaps most accurately, it had been difficult to settle into his… lack of humanity. It had been… _terrible,_ for a lack of a better description. It had been months of being _miserable._ Loathe as he was to sound so dramatic about it, there hadn’t been another way to handle it.

Perhaps most surprisingly, the trouble hadn’t come with drinking blood. The internal disgust had been there– he was drinking _blood–_ the idea only in combat by the way he had felt when Ravus had drank _his_ blood. He had always been beautiful when he had.

Granted, Ignis hadn’t thought _he_ was beautiful himself. He was _messy._ It had been months before he’d felt confident enough to control himself around other vampires, and even longer to associate with humans.

He hadn’t been allowed to meet Noctis during those months. He was too dangerous, unpredictable, Cor told him. He had hated how blunt the older vampire had been with him at first, and then he had started to appreciate it. There was no coddling to be had, not like this.

When he finally had been permitted to finally meet with the prince of Lucis, it had been… it had been.

He had wanted to hate him, too. Hate every one of them. The Fleurets for turning him, the Queen for dismissing him. King Regis for accepting him and Cor for forcing him to accept the state he was in, and he had wanted to hate Noctis because Noctis was _not his prince._

… and that had lasted for all of a moment, especially when it came to the king and his son. They were only… _inviting,_ and accepting. And neither of them were at fault.

And as for Ravus, well… Ignis could never hate him.

The details of his turning had never been shared with him. He wasn’t certain if their friends in Insomnia truly did not know the extent of it, or if they were keeping it from him on principle. He remembered Ravus drinking from him, and then he had only flashes, brief memories he thought were more like dreams than anything else. He hadn't known if they were true or not. He still didn’t.

He could, however, make the assumption that it had been the prince of Tenebrae who had blooded him. He always had been, and still was, praised for his intelligence, after all.

“Great! I’ll let you guys see it when I get this roll developed!” Prompto tucked the camera back into his chest. “Are we going out tonight still?”

“It’ll have to depend on the workload. Which reminds me.” He shifted the suit folded over his arm. “The prince’ll need awakening, I imagine.”

“As if his Royal Laziness wouldn’t sleep until the last possible moment,” Gladio said, and Ignis shot him a look. “You know it’s true. Go get him awake, we’re meant to train tonight after the soirée.”

Ignis nodded. “I’ll remind him. Prompto, Gladio.” He bid them farewell, and continued on the familiar path up to the prince’s bedroom.

The Citadel was so very different to Fenestala Manor. But it _was_ home now. One that he had even grown to adore nearly as much as the previous. Even if it _was_ bittersweet.

Two sharp raps of his knuckles against the door, and then Ignis let himself into Noctis’s room. “Your Highness.” As predicted, he was still asleep. “Highness, it is time to be awake.” As also predicted, Noctis didn’t so much as twitch.

A sigh, exasperated still, but fond. No, he’d never had the chance to hate him. “Highness.” He reached forward, taking the prince’s shoulder between his fingers to shake it gently. “You’ll be late for the party at this rate.”

“Nggghhh…”

Ignis smiled. “Come along, now. The sun’s long gone down.”

“‘m awake,” Noctis mumbled. “‘s the time…?”

“Seven-thirty. You’ll be due at nine. I’ve brought up your suit.”

“Ugh…” Groggy blue stared up at him through barely open eyes. Noct yawned widely, scrubbing both hands against his face. “Party… damn… forgot.” He pushed himself up, and Ignis finally relented to continue gathering Noctis’s things for this evening.

“Gladio informs me you’re to train with him tonight as well.”

“I do remember that.” He kicked the blankets away, staggering to his feet. Ignis backtracked, reaching out a hand to steady his sleep warm body. “Gods… my throat’s killing me.”

He paused. “Since when?” The prince’s last feeding had been just over a week ago, and wasn’t scheduled before the gathering tonight. These were vampire diplomats, but for Noctis to be that uncomfortable throughout something he barely tolerated to begin with…

Noctis shrugged. “Yesterday, I think. I was going to mention it, but…”

“But you fell asleep atop your paperwork.” Ignis had had to coax him from the desk to the bed, and tidy up after him even as the sunlight filtering below the curtains had made his own eyes ache. “I’m… not certain we can get someone on such a short notice. In fact, I’m quite certain you may have to–” He stopped, again. A new idea. “Ah. A temporary solution, then.”

“What?”

Ignis reached for his sleeve, and watched Noctis as he first recognized the intention, and then grinned because of it.

“You’re propositioning me?”

He dropped a cuff link. _“No._ Merely– it’s a terrible solution, but if only to take the edge off for the soirée tonight–”

The prince laughed, shoulder nudging against his. “Calm down, Iggy, I’m only teasing. Have you been bitten before? Ah, while you’ve been a vampire, I mean.”

Ignis shook his head, and Noctis continued.

“It feels… weird. Prompto and I wanted to see what it was like, once. It only helps the thirst a little.” Still, he took Ignis’s offered wrist, staggering again as he stepped forward. “Gods, I’m tired.”

“This will help _enough,”_ Ignis said sternly. “But we are on a schedule, Highness. Let this not be another last-minute sprint to the ballroom.” He wiggled his wrist. “I’m afraid the king would have my fangs this time. Yours as well.”

“Mm, no, Gladio’s dad would, though. And Cor.” He heaved a sigh against Ignis’s wrist. “Time to face the music, I suppose.”

“Time to face it indeed,” Ignis said, and failed to flinch when Noct bit into his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he wants SO badly to be SO bitter, but let's face it... he'd never hate Noct, he'd never be able to. and yeah, hating Ravus wouldn't happen either because he still loves him ~~hating himself tho, a diff story~~


	10. Epilogue

_two years later_

 

“Gods _damn_ it!”

 _“Noct,”_ he complained. He had been sleeping so well, and he had the vague impression that the sun was still out nonwithstanding. Noctis shouldn’t even be _awake._

“Shit– Iggy, I didn’t intend to wake you… uh.”

“Why are you awake?” he asked, forcing himself up. It wasn’t until Noct turned around to face him that he noticed the problem– namely, the fact that the prince seemed to have overturned the entire pot of ink to his clothes. “… you were working?”

“Is it _that_ surprising?”

“It’s daylight.”

“I’m behind. You keep reminding me.”

“I didn’t intend it to be declaration of afternoon intent.” Ignis, already on his feet, stopped next to the prince to reach for the hem of his nightshirt. “Let’s see if we can salvage this–” He pulled it up and over his head, only pausing when Noct caught his wrist to stop him before he could turn away.

“Eh, forget it. I’m done.” He took the shirt, dropping it back onto the desk. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Another mournful glance at the mess, and Ignis allowed Noct to pull him back to the four-poster.

“I apologize if I’ve seemed standoffish about the paperwork,” he said eventually, once he had settled back into bed and tucked Noct back against his side. “Merely, the stress–”

“Specs, you've been nagging me for two years now. I'm used to it.”

He frowned.

“It's not a fault, Ignis.” He nuzzled against Ignis's shoulder. “You know I wouldn't get anything done without you. You're… _efficient._ I'm just always tired.”

“I'm not certain I enjoy the term ‘nagging,’ that asides.” Even if he knew there was no other apt term. That was just who he was, he supposed. “Couldn't you describe it a little more _kindly?”_

 _“And_ you know I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you were any other way, right? Friendly, _pointed_ reminders to eat my vegetables notwithstanding.”

“A balanced diet–”

“– is barely necessary for a vampire, anyway! I cannot _imagine_ what you ate when you were human.”

“Consumables that humans find necessary to live a healthy life.”

 _“Vegetables,”_ Noct groaned, and Ignis finally laughed as he pulled him in closer to his side.

“Yes, Noct. I even kiss you with a mouth that enjoys preparing and consuming beans,” he teased, and stifled Noctis’s groan with his own mouth.

“Leave the beans out of this…”

“Butter beans… some ham… it was much more inviting when I was human, but I still enjoy the taste nowadays.”

“I am going to bite you if you don’t _stop.”_

“Stop…” He pulled back. “… kissing you? If His Highness insists–”

“Get back here,” Noct complained, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull his mouth back to his.

“His Highness is very fickle,” he laughed warmly, and relaxed back into the press of his body.

It was still relatively new, all of this. Just as it had taken longer than he’d anticipated to adjust to life in Insomnia, it had taken… a while for whatever he and Noctis had _been_ to become what they were _now._ Master and servant to… equals, Noctis liked to flaunt, although Ignis wouldn’t quite allow himself to believe that. Courting, as it were.

He wondered if his own hesitance had been borne more of the fact that it was _Noct_ who had been pursuing him… or the fact that falling in love with him had felt like a slight to Ravus.

The former hadn’t mattered, because Noct was Noct and not only did the prince get what he _wanted,_ it was also… incredibly difficult to _not_ love him. He was kind and caring, human in ways that Ignis hadn’t even thought he’d been himself. And so he had fallen in love with him, too.

The latter was more difficult. It had been two years since he and Noct had met, and it had been even longer since Ignis had left Tenebrae. In those many months, he hadn’t heard from either Lunafreya or Ravus, and– after a few, hesitant attempts to contact either of them– his communication went unanswered. He had heard that the royal family in Tenebrae were fine, but asides that, information was lacking.

Somehow, he thought it was more than that. Something to do with his turning. Something he wasn’t meant to be told, something that House Fleuret wouldn’t admit to anyone to avoid being seen as… weak, perhaps. Ignis could only guess.

He could only guess where Ravus was, what he was doing, if he was safe. If, perhaps, he still loved him, or even approved of his relationship with Noctis. Guesswork. So much guesswork. Even Noctis hadn’t been able to answer his questions, loathe as he had been to ask once.

Still. Ravus had always been accepting of him and his choices. He had always wished for his happiness in such a way that Ignis had always wished for Ravus’s as well– and still did– and so, just perhaps… Ravus would have been happy to see _him_ happy.

He couldn’t know, of course. It was constant nagging guilt on the best days, even now, and a wave crashing over him on the worst. The days where he would be kept awake by his own thoughts, tongue pressed against the underside of his fangs, where Noct would lead the conversation and tell him in any possible way that this _wasn’t_ his fault.

It helped. A little. He supposed.

He _was_ happy with Noctis. Complicated pasts aside, that was one thing that would remain to be constant from now on.

He still did intend to find out what had happened after his subsequent departure from Tenebrae, to find out what had become of his former master and lover. One day, he would. Noct had said he’d help him figure it out, and Ignis had been more touched than he had been able to express.

His dwelling wasn’t fair to Noct, either. He loved him more than he’d thought himself capable, since turning, and that was irrefutable.

“I am not _fickle,”_ Noctis complained, and Ignis gasped as teeth dragged at his lower lip.

“Shall we count the ways?” he murmured.

“No.” Noct drew out the word miserably, and then pulled away. “Like I have time for _that._ I want to go to sleep.”

Ignis laughed, slipping his fingers into Noct’s hair. “Right. For awhile longer, then.”

“Mhmmm.”

Noctis shifted to get comfortable, limbs flailing, sprawling across the bed and Ignis as he was wont to do during the daylight. His skin was cold. Ignis settled his palm over his chest, and fished to pull the blankets up with the other, moving to accommodate in every way he could.

Noct hummed and tucked his face into Ignis’s neck. The faint flicker of anticipation of feedings long past, and then Ignis dismissed the thought, dropping a kiss into the prince’s hair.

“Good dreams, Noct.”

“Yeah, love you.”

“And I you,” Ignis said quietly, content, and settled in once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone~ it was a pleasure to be able to write this (and I took it way out of the realm I was meant to stay in but when I was prompted Fleurentia -> Ignoct vampire au I couldn't STOP myself OTL) there's so much more going on in the background that never got written about... 
> 
> ... and I also fancy the idea that this all takes place before Noct realizes/finds out he's the Chosen, ie he's not engaged to Luna yet, so imagine the day when that happens and imagine both Ignis and Ravus's surprise when they realize who's getting married to who and that they're going to _meet_ again one day... presumably, anyway. presumably.
> 
> thanks for coming along on the ride with me!! and thanks again to Farewell for the comm, it was an honor to be able to write this for you T____T


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